Music of the Night
by BonafideDreamer
Summary: When Scott's cousin, a pretty, young French girl, moves to Beacon Hills, she's not exactly expecting to land in the middle of a supernatural adventure, and she definitely isn't looking for romance. But what's a girl to do in a town where werewolves roam free and annoyingly attractive teenage boys aren't exactly hard to find? Jackson/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everybody! First fanfic, so please be nice. If you read, please review and I'm not sure how frequent my updates are going to be, so please bear with me! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, only Esther. Similar content and dialogue probably originated from the show**

**ONE**

Well, here I am. Beacon Hills, California. It is nothing like France, I can tell you that. You know why? I know my way around France. However, in California, I am totally lost. My aunt and cousin told me to meet them at this coffee shop at 12:30 in the afternoon on August 15; the day my flight gets in.

They aren't here.

So, here I am, sitting at a small table with my art pad, iPod and earphones, an acoustic guitar and an old, dark leather shoulder bag with no clue how to get where I'm meant to go. There's charcoal all over my hands, because I draw messy when I'm nervous. They are fifteen minutes late, and I'm starting to freak out. Someone set a cup of coffee down in front of me. Looking up, I saw a boy about my age, maybe a bit older. He had light brown hair and green-blue eyes that I would love to draw. He stood at maybe six-feet and was obviously and athlete.

"What's this?" I asked.

I could tell that my light French accent surprised him. His eyes widened ever so slightly.

"You look a little lost," he recovered quickly. "Thought this might help."

Quirking an eyebrow, I gave a small smile. I pointed to the seat across from me; an invitation that he took. It was silent for a few minutes, both of us trying to look at each other without the other noticing.

"So, who are you?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Esther Leroux," I told him.

"Well Esther, it's nice to meet you," he introduced. "I'm Jackson Whittemore."

I gave a small 'hm' and took a sip of the drink he'd brought me. It was very good. A little bit spicy, but sweet.

"What is this?" I asked him, pointing at the drink.

He scratched behind his neck.

"It's chai," Jackson told me. "A friend of mine likes them."

Nodding, I got the impression he didn't want to talk about it.

Coughing, Jackson asked, "So, what brings you to Beacon Hills?"

I opened my mouth to respond but quickly closed it. I was not about to tell a complete stranger why I'd really been sent here. There was no way. Opening my mouth again, I shrugged.

"Just needed a change," I said.

Jackson seemed to accept the answer and nodded.

"Where'd you move from?"

"What is this," I giggled. "Twenty questions?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he grinned, matter of factly.

Oh my Lord, his smile is just too perfect. Honestly, he must've hit the genetic lottery.

"France," I told him.

"Why'd you live in France?"

"My mom is American and my dad is French. They met, fell in love, blah, blah, blah. When they got married, they decided to move permanently to Paris, instead of splitting time between France and here," I explained.

My phone beeped. "Sorry", I mumbled fishing it from my bag. Looking at the text, I sighed in aggravation.

"What's wrong?" Jackson questioned.

"My cousin was supposed to pick me up, but he _forgot_, so now I am stranded," I mumbled, my face buried in my hands.

"I could give you a ride, if you want," he offered, almost shyly. That surprised me. Jackson did not seem like the shy type.

"Oh, no! I couldn't let you do that!" I exclaimed. "Especially not after the coffee and everything."

He stood up, grabbing my guitar along the way. "I insist."

Well, he obviously wasn't taking no for an answer.

I grinned. I enjoyed the fact that the first person I met here, besides the cab driver, was sweet, male, and really, r_eally_ hot.

Now came the difficult, not to mention embarrassing, part; trying to stand up without too much pain. Bracing my arms on the table and back of the chair, I pushed myself up, grimaced and stumbled forwards.

"Whoa," Jackson threw his arms out to steady me. "You okay?"

"I'll live," I told him, stooping to pick up my bag.

He shot me a look that clearly said _If you say so_ and walked out the door, me trailing behind.

"So, who's your cousin?" Jackson asked from the driver's seat of his Porsche.

Seriously. He drove a freaking _Porsche_. What else was there to learn about this guy?

"Scott McCall," I told him.

"Are you serious?" he chocked.

Shooting him a look, I asked what the problem was.

"McCall and I may or may not hate each other," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Brilliant," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, it's nothing personal," he said. "We've just never really gotten along."

"Alright," I shrugged, a little skeptically. Scott is such a sweetheart and Jackson was super nice. I totally thought they'd be friends.

We pulled up in front of Scott's house a couple minutes later. I thanked him but before I got out of the car, he grabbed my wrist and wrote his number on the back of my hand.

"You'll be needing a tour guide," he smirked, before pulling away from the curb.

Could he get any more attractive?

Knocking on the door of the McCall house, I realized no one was home. Sighing, I opened the front door with the key my aunt had sent me. Stepping in, I saw random pink post-it notes on the floor, with arrows drawn on them. They led around the corner to a bedroom on the first floor. It was perfect. All the things that I needed were there; my easel and paints, music books, art supplies. Everything.

For the first time since I'd landed, I finally felt at home.


	2. Chapter 2

**HI! So, here's chapter two! I apologize for any mistakes; it's 2 a.m. here.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, only Esther. Similar content and dialogue probably originated from the show**

**TWO**

"Hello?" a female voice called. "Scott? Esther?"

"In here aunt Melissa," I yelled back.

She rounded the corner into my room, looking very frazzled, but with her that wasn't unusual. She looked so much like mom. Same skin, same dark hair, same brown eyes. They were even the same height.

"Hi, honey," she said, giving me a hug.

"Hi, aunt Mel," I said into her shoulder.

God, she even hugged like mom.

"I am so sorry about the mix up, sweetheart. I_ cannot_ believe that Scott forgot to come and get you," she cried in exasperation at her only son.

"Yeah, well, boys will be boys," I smirked.

Now, let me make this clear. I love my cousin. Very much. But I will never hesitate to admit that he is not very good with remembering the important stuff.

Rolling her eyes and shrugging, my aunt grumbled, "I guess. But it was still stupid."

"Do you want some help with dinner?" I asked, laughing.

"Oh, yeah, definitely!" she exclaimed.

I followed her out of my room and into the kitchen asking her what we'd be cooking.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," she drifted off, looking through the cupboards and drawers.

As I rummaged through everything, I found pasta, tomato sauce and bread. All the things I needed to make what had been one of my mom's favorite meals. Spaghetti dinner: Leroux style.

"Okay, I know what we can do for dinner," I told my aunt.

"Great, because I don't," she smiled sheepishly.

"Well then, I guess I'll be surprising you then," I grinned. "I'll cook, you clean up and relax."

"Oh no, absolutely not! You just got here!" she exclaimed, waving me off.

"And you," I said, pushing her out of the kitchen, "have had a long day. Now go rest and relax. You need it."

"Alright," she looked a bit put off as she climbed the stairs to her room. "Just so you know, you'll be cooking for eight."

At that, I chocked a bit. I was expecting three, not over double that. However, I didn't want to look too phased. Once she'd left, I spun on my heel and went back into the kitchen. I started pulling out all the things that I needed for dinner. It wasn't exactly a fancy dinner but hey, I'm working with what I've got.

Everything was prepped and cooking. In the middle of making the cookies, my cousin walked into the kitchen, along with another boy with pale skin, close cropped hair and amber-brown eyes.

"Scott!" I cried elated, running into his arms.

He looked no different then that last time I'd seen him, which had been a little over a year ago. His hair was still shaggy and hanging in his dark brown eyes. His tanned skin was smooth and he was still skinny, his clothes hanging off of him. The only different thing was the couple inches he'd added.

"Hey, Esther," he grinned, lifting me up. "I'm so sorry about mixing up the times and not picking you up and stuff."

"Oh yeah! You just so happen to forget your cousin in a town she's never been to before, on the day of her arrival. No biggie," grumbled the other boy.

"Shut up, Stiles," Scott growled, smacking him on the back of his head.

Laughing, I put my arm around his shoulders. I had to stand on my toes to do it.

"Well, to make it up to me, you can set the table. Eight places, please," I said, pushing the cutlery towards him.

Deciding it would be best not to argue, wise decision, they left without a word and I decided now would be a good time to change. I sashayed to me room and walked into the closet. I picked out a cropped, royal blue, long sleeved top and paired it with a short chiffon skirt in the same colour, patterned with yellow daisies. I braided my long brown hair over one shoulder and touched up my makeup. Slipping on some leather bracelets, I went to check on how badly the boys had messed up on dinner.

Thankfully, they hadn't messed up at all. I told them just that.

"The confidence you harbour for us is just heart-warming," Stiles drawled sarcastically.

"You look great, Esther," Scott grinned.

I nodded at him and went to check on dinner.

"So-" the boys chorused.

"What exactly is for dinner?" Stiles asked.

"And why exactly did we set eight dinner places for dinner?" Scott finished.

"Well," I explained. "I'm cooking spaghetti and stuff for dinner and as for why you set eight places for dinner-"

My sentence was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

"That would be because your mother has invited guests," I finished.

They left the kitchen to go and check on who'd arrived. I stayed in the kitchen. I'm not exactly good with new people.

There was a chorus of 'hi's and 'how are you's from the front door. Turning back to stir the sauce when a voice behind me said "Mom, where should I put these." That voice belonged to a very pissed off Scott.

"What's wrong with you, Mister Grumpy?" I chuckled.

"The people mom invited aren't exactly my favorite people," he grumbled. "C'mon, they wanna meet you."

I followed him out into the living room. Standing there were two men I didn't know, Stiles, aunt Mel, another woman and…Jackson.

_Hi, _he mouthed. I waved a little bit. A grin split across his lips.

"Esther," aunt Mel said. "This is Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles' dad, and Mister and Missus Whittemore and their son, Jackson."

I noticed Jackson flinch just the smallest bit when she said that. I wonder why? I guess I'll leave that to be answered on another day.

"It's nice to meet you all," I acknowledged.

"It's nice to meet you as well, dear," said.

Turning to my aunt, I asked, "Um, can I go check dinner?"

"Yeah, definitely," she said, waving me off.

I spun out of there, cutting through the dining room. Bad idea. On the wall, there was a painting. It was a mass of hot pinks and electric blues. Neon yellow, vibrant purples and lime green accompanying it.

"Oh my _God_!" I screeched. "Aunt Mel!"

She came running into the room, closely followed by everyone else.

"What? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is it your back? Do you need your meds?" she asked at rapid fire pace, giving me the nurses once over.

"No," I bit out. "You hung the painting."

"Told you she'd be pissed," Scott laughed from the doorway.

"And I ignored you. I guess that was a bad call," she groaned.

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I gestured to the painting making 'I'm really annoyed' noises.

"I don't get what the big deal is," Stiles spoke up.

"It's her painting," Scott chuckled.

If looks could kill, Scott would be dead a hundred times over. I pivoted on my heel and stalked into the kitchen. Walking around to the stove I threw my hands up in the air and slammed them down on the counter. Could this get any more awkward?

"Oh, God," I moaned, collapsing my head into my arms.

"Need some help?" someone asked.

Looking up, I saw Jackson leaning against the door frame, an amused smile on his face. I rested my hand on my cheek and blew a piece of hair out of my eyes.

"I would love some help," I told him. "Can you cut up that bread and put it in the plan?"

"Yes, yes I can," he said, walking around the counter and starting the task I'd asked of him. "So, I didn't know you were an artist.

"Oh, yeah," I shrugged nonchalantly. "It's something I learnt from my mom." Which _was_ true.

"You seem like you're very close with your mom," Jackson said.

"Yeah, was," I mumbled.

"Was?" Jackson asked, eyebrow quirked.

Oh shit!

"Am," I spat out. "Sorry. Just a bit distracted."

Jackson didn't look like he fully believed me, but he dropped the subject anyway. We kept the conversation light from there on.

The kitchen door crashed open and Scott and Stiles came in. At the sight of Jackson and I laughing and talking, their grins dropped and cloudy expression covered their faces.

"Why the grin, asshat?" he barked.

Shooting him a look that _clearly _said shut your mouthes, my head whipped around to Jackson. His jaw was clenched and eyes were hard. This was not going to end well.

"Scott, Stiles, go asked Mel when she wants dinner on the table," I ordered.

My cousin shot me an incredulous look, but Stiles seemed to get it and managed to push Scott out of the room.

Jackson was shaking his head and continuing to cut the bread, this time with a bit more force. He'd hurt himself, not to mention the counter, if he kept that up. Walking over to him, I gently placed my hand over his, halting his movements. His head shot up to look at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's just, like I told you earlier-"

"You and Scott don't get along," I interrupted. "Yeah, I remember. Why is that exactly?"

"Not sure, really," he shrugged. "We've never been friends."

"Okay," I drew out the word. "But, um, if you figure it out, let me know."

Looking a little unsure, he nodded. A huge smile broke out across my face, and I guess smiling is contagious, because he smiled too.

"You know, you have a beautiful smile," he told me.

Biting my lip, I looked down, blushing. I'm not exactly used to compliments from cute guys.

"Thank you," I muttered.

"Anytime," he grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

"So, Esther, that's an interesting name for a young lady," said to me from the other end of the table.

"David," hit his arm good naturedly.

Laughing a bit I waved it off. "It's alright," I told her. "I get that a lot. It's a family name."

"What origin?" Jackson's father asked.

"French," I told him. "My dad's side."

The adults looked rather impressed. That happens a lot. It's wired and awkward and I don't really like it but you learn to deal.

"So what's your education been like?" broke in.

"Uh, well, elementary school I was home schooled. Once my parents discovered my, um, talent for the arts, they sent me to a private school in Paris," I told him.

"Hm," said. "And what school was that?"

"The European Academy of the Arts," I said.

"How does the system there work?" asked his wife.

Everyone at the table was staring at me. It started off as your basic meal and now it was time for the third degree. Frikin yay.

"Well, you send in an application and you get to study there from grade six to grade twelve. In grades six and seven you take courses in all the arts programs the school can offer. Then in grade eight, you pick the three things you'll specialize in for the next five years."

"What were your specializations?" asked.

"Dance, music, and art," I told him.

"How exactly did you manage normal school with all this extra work?" asked.

"Well, in the mornings I did three hours of normal school work-"

"Wait, what?" Stiles exclaimed. "You only went to school for three hours a day?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And after that, I did intensive arts training for another four."

Scott and Stiles looked a little less put-out, but not much. It was actually very funny.

"So, were there any sports involved?" asked. "I know this is and arts school, but still."

Aunt Mel and I looked at each other with matching smirks. "You boys are gonna love this," she laughed.

Scott, Stiles, and Jackson had varying looks of confusion written across their faces.

"I was privately trained by a coach from the states during summer holidays," I told them. "He was a lacrosse coach, so I was given a lot of the training form American high school lacrosse teams. Some of the best actually."

"You're kidding me right?" Jackson asked.

"Nope," I said. "Just a ton of surprises."

He gave a small smile before looking down at his meal.

"Alright, let me get this straight," Stiles announced. "You are a French girl, living in California, who has been trained in music, art, and dance for most of her life. Also, you have been trained in lacrosse."

"Almost perfect buddy," Scott grinned, slapping him on the shoulder.

"What the hell could I have possibly missed?" Stiles asked, looking half exasperated and half terrified.

"The multitude of other languages that she speaks," Scott told him.

"And what would those be?" asked.

"Well, besides English and French, I speak Spanish, Japanese, German, and Italian fluently. I also speak a little bit of Portuguese and Dutch," I told him, grinning.

Everyone was staring at me with mixed looks of surprise, praise, and shock. Finally I was making a dent. Either that or just a good impression. Whatever works, I suppose. After that, the rest of dinner was filled with idle chit chat and talk about the parents work. I discovered that was the sheriff, work with Aunt Mel at the hospital and her husband was a very well-known attorney. Then the topic of school came up.

"Esther, I assume you will be going into your sophomore year?" asked.

"Oh, um, yeah, I will be," I muttered.

"What courses will you be taking?" asked.

"I believe I'll be taking English, History, Math, Art, AP French, AP Biology, English Literature, and I will also be working in the library during one block to give your librarian a spare block," I spilled.

"Wait, why no P.E?" Stiles asked. "It's mandatory until after this year."

My smile faltered. I was so not ready to come clean about what had happened to me, especially not in front of all these strangers. And Jackson.

"Oh, I finished all the physical education requirements while I was in France," I lied smoothly.

I looked over at Scott and Aunt Melissa. They seemed relieved that I had come up with a believable lie.

"You lucky little-"Stiles started, before his dad kicked him under the table.

I looked down and blew a hair out of my face, desperate for this dinner to end.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N****: Two chapters in one day. Aren't you guys lucky. Also, I was re-watching some episodes of TW to try and get a feel for where I wanted this story to go, and I was thinking a lot about Jackson's character. In the show, after he dumps Lydia, he's a total asshole towards her. I mean, he's and asshole towards everyone, but you get what I mean. Anyways, I was watching and thinking and I realized that Lydia didn't really make Jackson a better person. I've never like the relationship that they had, and that is one of the reasons. So, long-story-short, I'm planning on making Esther the person that makes Jackson better. Not fully change him, but she's just there enough to keep him in line and also to love him for who he is as a person, and not because he is the captain of the lacrosse team.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, only Esther. Similar content and dialogue probably originated from the show**

**FOUR**

"So, I was wondering if you'd be up for tutoring me," Jackson said.

I looked up in surprise. We were standing on the front porch in front of the house. His arms were folded on the railing that I was sitting on. His head swivelled to look at me and our eyes met.

"Well, what do you want to be tutored in?" I asked, a little bit shocked.

"French," he told me. "My grades last year were not so great."

"Um, yeah, I guess I can. But why me? There are far more qualified people out there," I told him.

Jackson shrugged. His face was shadowed by the small light that glowed over his head. His eyes were impossibly blue.

"Just thought it might be more fun."

My lips cracked into a grin. "Well then. I would love to."

He looked at me like I'd just given him the answer to the universe.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I giggled.

Jackson wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me off the ledge. I gasped and wrapped my arms around his neck as he swung me around. I threw my head back and laughed.

"Of course," I said a bit breathlessly, "we will have to talk to your parents and my aunt so that we can figure out the details, but everything should be fine."

Jackson's smile cut his face and it was infectious and so beautiful.

But the door slammed open and my dumbass cousin and his dumbass best friend had to ruin the moment.

"Esther, you guys need to come back inside." Scott's voice was clipped.

I nodded and he turned away. Looking up at Jackson one more time I sighed and turned towards the house.

…

Later that night, I was lying in bed trying to capture a chiselled jaw, cutely tussled hair, and gorgeous eyes on paper. It wasn't working out quite how I wanted it to.

"Damn," I muttered as I erased the nose.

My laptop made a soft _ping _next to me. Putting down my sketch pad, I flipped it open to see the incoming Skype call from the user's stellawu_95 and karen.k08. I clicked respond and two faces popped up. The one on the left of my screen was a young Asian girl with fine bone structure and her long black hair tied up in a braid. Her always-there mug of espresso was clutched between her hands. The girl on the other side of the screen had long, curly, dark red hair falling around her slightly rounder face. Hazel eyes gleamed from behind butterfly shaped glasses. These were my two best friends from France.

"Hey, Bitch," Stella greeted, taking a sip of her coffee. Her English accent was thick and very obvious.

"Stella!" Karen chastened.

I rolled my eyes but my grin was there. Whenever I talked to these girls, I couldn't help but smile. They were the best part of my life. After the accident and mom's death they were always around when I needed them. When my dad told me that I was moving to Beacon Hills, we cried together and they helped me pack up my room at the Academy. They were like the sisters I'd never had but always wanted.

"It's nice to see you guys," I said.

"We miss you honey," Karen said, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout.

"I know," I said. "I miss you guys so much. It's all so surreal here. Not at all like the Academy."

"Yeah, so what's California like? Sandy beaches, tons of amazing shopping, hot boys?" Stella inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Stel," I groaned, "I told you that I was moving to a _small town _surrounded by forest. So, no, there aren't any beaches."

"Fine," she huffed. "But you didn't answer my other two questions."

Rolling my eyes, I said "I haven't had time to look around time in terms of shops, but it looked like there were a few cute places. I'll have to check out the city area more."

"Right, yeah, we don't care," Karen said, pushing her glasses up onto her nose further.

"We just want to know about the boys," Stella stated.

I opened my mouth to respond. Then I closed it and looked down at my hands, which were twisting around each other.

"Oh. My. God." Stella gasped.

"There is a guy!" Karen squealed. "What's his name? Who is he? What's he like? Is he hot?"

I bit my lip and felt he heat rise into my cheeks. My skin was dark enough to hide it from people who didn't know me well, but these girls could spot it from a yard away. Or via video chat.

"HE'S HOT!" two voices chorused.

I laughed and looked up.

"Okay. Fine. His name is Jackson, he goes to school with Scott, he's actually really sweet, and yes, he is very, _very_, hot. Satisfied?"

"Not quite," Stella dragged out the word.

"What else could you _possibly _want to know?" I sighed.

"What does he look like?" Stella asked.

"And what exactly makes him so sweet?" Karen added.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my sketch pad and held it up in front of the screen.

"So, the quality isn't very good but imagine bluish-green eyes, light brown hair, light tan, that sort of thing," I told them.

"Damn," Stella murmured.

"I agree with Stella on this one," Karen told me.

I smiled and put the book down.

"But, seriously Esther, what's his attitude like?" Karen questioned.

I sighed. "You know how they always say not except drinks from strangers?"

"Yeah," they drew out the word, ending it in an almost question-like way.

"Well, I did, and never in my life have I been more pleased I disobeyed one of the cardinal rules of _not _getting kidnapped," I told them.

"What did he give you?" Karen asked.

"Caffeine."

"Oh," Stella gasped, placing her hand on her chest. "This boy is after my heart."

Karen and I dissolved into piles of laughter while Stella sat looking a bit put off.

"But really you guys," I said, sobering. "He's so sweet. He gave me a ride after Scott forgot to pick me up."

"And now we're getting _rides _from strangers? Tsk tsk Miss Leroux," Karen giggled.

"Scott did what?" Stella shouted and the same time.

"He may have forgotten that my flight got in today and left me stranded at a coffee shop where I met Jackson."

"Well, thank the effing Lord for cute California boys, am I right?" Stella drawled.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**** More Jackson and Esther in this chapter. Yay!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, only Esther. Similar content and dialogue probably originated from the show**

**FIVE**

The first thing I heard the next morning was my phone going off. Groaning, I picked it up off of the nightstand and clicked it on.

_Be ready by 10 _was all it said. I looked at the number. Jackson. I smiled a bit and turned to look at the clock. It read 9:30.

"Shit," I yelped.

Throwing off the covers I ran to my closet and picked out the first thing I could lay my hands on. I came up with a soft black cotton dress and a light denim shirt. Running into the bathroom, I quickly did my hair and threw on my clothes and some super basic makeup.

"Hi," I said to Aunt Mel as I ran into the kitchen.

"Morning sweetheart," she said, pecking me on the check. "How'd you sleep?"

"Oh, I slept fine. You?" I asked, grabbing the pot of coffee and filling up a travel mug.

"Me to. What are you doing?" she questioned.

"Hm?" I said, looking up from my coffee. "Oh! I'm going out with Jackson. He offered to give me a tour around town."

Raising an eyebrow at me, Aunt Mel turned back to making her breakfast.

"What?" I asked.

"It's just," she hesitated, "from what Scott and Stiles have told me, Jackson isn't really a good person."

I paused and thought about that, trying to come up with an answer that was reasonable.

"Okay, well, you work with his mom, right?"

She nodded.

"What does she say about her son?"

"She says that he is incredibly kind but has trouble with anger. She also told me that he has always had a hard time letting people in and that he is incredibly focused on pretty much everything that he does."

"Right, and what have Scott and Stiles said?"

An uncomfortable look came across her face. She looked down and was rubbing her wrist. My eyebrows went up.

"Mel?" I asked. How bad could it be?

She sighed. "They say a lot of things. That he's a total asshole and a completely self-centered jerk. That he's a total womanizer and that he thinks he's king of the world because he has nice hair and an expensive car. Stuff like that."

I let out a breath. It wasn't really as bad as I'd thought.

"I hope that both you and Scott realise that there are guys like that at every school, right?" I told her. "My school in France had them and I'm about ninety-nine-point-nine percent positive that every other high school in the world has guys like that. But the thing is, when it comes to Jackson, that's _not _what I saw."

"Well, what did you see?" Mel asked.

"I see someone who is kind and giving and sweet. I see someone who is passionate and loving and driven. I see a teenage boy who is trying to live life in the best possible way. And, yes, I get where Scott and Stiles may be coming from, but have they ever really gotten to know him? Probably not. Have I? Only the gentle, caring part of him. But, when I do see the not-so-great parts, I will make my decision on how I want my possible friendship with him to continue," I took a deep breath and closed my mouth.

Aunt Mel was smiling. It was the smile she wore when she was happy and proud, all teeth and smile lines etched into the corners of her mouth.

"You are so much like your mom."

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"She was always the person who took no one's shit. She would always speak her mind and was always standing up for the people that she loved. She played the role of big sister very, very well," my aunt's smile had faded into something softer, like she was pulling out the memories of her sister.

"Well," I chocked, "I'm glad that I'm living up to her rep."

Mel nodded and pulled me into a hug. We stayed like that for a couple minutes, just being sad and happy at the same time. A knock on the door interrupted our aunt-and-niece moment. I pulled away, picked up my coffee, and went to answer the front door.

Jackson was standing on the porch with his hands in the pockets of his very nice jeans and a dark red tee shirt. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his jeans and he looked up when I opened the door.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I said back.

"Uh, are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, just let me grab something. Can you wait a minute?" I asked.

He nodded and I turned back to run into the house, and then my room. Reaching down to the foot of my bed, I grabbed my purse and checked to make sure I had everything that I would need in it. I slipped into a pair of flats and walked back out to the front door. I halted when I got there. Aunt Mel was talking to Jackson and he seemed very uncomfortable.

"Okay," I grinned, sliding in next to my aunt. "I'm all good."

"Great," he stepped back just as footsteps rocket down the stairs.

"Hey, Mom," Scott's voice called.

Turning my head, I saw him running down the stairs with Stiles following behind him. When he saw Jackson at the door his face immediately turned dark.

"What are you doing here?" he almost growled.

"We," I jumped in, "are going out. Bye boys. Have a nice day."

Pushing Jackson outside I slammed the door shut before Scott or anyone else could say more. Walking down the driveway to his car, he said "Nice escape back there."

I smiled. "Thanks."

It was quiet for a while but it wasn't awkward. I looked out the window at the town passing by, and then back to the boy sitting next to me. He was keeping focused on the road, but I swore that I'd felt him looking at me. Well, I was probably just imagining things.

"So," I asked, "where are you taking me?"

"In all honesty, I'm not really sure." Jackson grinned. "I was just going to drive you around, show you Beacon Hills."

"That sounds like a lot of fun," I told him.

He grinned. "Then let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: ****This is the chapter where the actual plot of the show starts **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, only Esther. Similar content and dialogue probably originated from the show**

**SIX**

"Stiles, what the hell?" I asked sleepily, rubbing my eyes.

"Hey Esther," he grinned, rubbing a hand over his head. "I'm here to get Scott."

"I'm not even going to ask why. Would you like me to get him for you?" I suggested.

"That'd be great. Thanks," Stiles grinned like an idiot.

Rolling my eyes, I closed my window, pulled on my soft boots and went to get Scott. Whatever they were up to, there was no way I was getting left behind. I'd gotten close with the boys these past couple of weeks.

Pushing open the door to my cousin's room, I walked over to the sleeping lump on the bed. Snores were coming from Scott alarmingly loudly. Snickering, I gently pocked him.

"W-what?" he asked blearily. "Esther, what are you doing?"

"Your friend is outside waiting for you," I told him, nodding towards the door.

Sighing, Scott pulled on a hoodie and followed me out to the front. We walked around the deck, back to the window in front of my room but no Stiles.

"Stiles?" Scott called softly. "Where are you?"

There was a rustling from overhead and then a torso and head dropped down from the roof. Scott yelled and the Stiles yelled then Scott yelled and after that I lost track. Oh boys.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" Scott yelled.

"Funny, your cousin said practically the same thing to me about five minutes ago," Stiles grinned waving his arms around. "Anyways, you weren't answering your phone and I know it's late but you guys really need to hear this."

Once he knew that he had both of our attentions, Stiles continued.

"I saw my dad leave 20 minutes ago. Dispatch called and they're bringing every officer from the Beacon Department and even the State Police."

He sounded way too excited.

"For what?" Scott demanded.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods," Stiles told us, flipping down from the roof.

Yup. Way, _way t_oo excited.

"A dead body?" Scott asked, half in shock.

Stiles popped up over the railing. "No, a body of water. Yes dumbass, a dead body."

He climbed over the rail and stood in front of Scott and I.

"You mean like murdered?" Scott said.

"Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties," Stiles said, unwavering.

"Hold on," I held my hands up. "If they found a body then what exactly are they looking for?"

Stiles flinched in happiness and grinned like a manic. "That's the best part. They only found half."

Oh no.

"We're going," Stiles told us. No room for discussion.

…

We pulled up in front of the preserve in Stiles powder blue Jeep.

"We're seriously doing this?" Scott demanded as I slammed the door of the Jeep shut.

"You're the one who's always bitching that nothing goes on in this town," Stiles told him, dumbfounded.

"He's not wrong Scotty," I grinned at him.

"Shut up," he mumbled to me.

Stiles patted him on the back and continued into the woods.

"I was trying to get a goodnight's sleep before practice tomorrow," Scott told him.

Right," Stiles called sarcastically, "because sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort."

I had been informed that Stiles and Scott weren't the best players on their lacrosse team by several people.

"No, because I'm playing this year," Scott told him defiantly. "In fact, I'm making first line."

"Hey, that's the spirit," Stiles told him, using the tone of voice that implied that he thought that Scott was insane. "Everyone should have a dream, even if it's a pathetically unrealistic one."

"Alright boys, that's enough," I smiled. In truth, I liked their playful banter. It reminded me of Karen and Stella.

"Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?" Scott asked.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Stiles responded, "Huh. I didn't even think about that."

"And, um, what if whoever killed that girl is still out here?" I questioned.

"Also something that I didn't think about," Stiles said.

We came to an incline and started climbing up it and Scott informed his best friend that his planning skills were lacking before having to lean against a tree.

"You know, maybe the sever asthmatic should be the one with the flashlight," Scott wheezed, taking a few puffs from his inhaler.

We flopped down onto the dead leaves that covered the ground burying the flashlight as the smaller lights in the distance showed up. Stiles got up off the ground after a minute and told us to follow him further into the woods. These boys were going to get me killed. We dodged around the flashlights with Stiles in the lead. I was following behind with Scott, when he pulled me behind a tree.

There was a dog barking and some yelling and then a familiar voice saying "Hang on, hang one. This little delinquent belongs to me."

"Dad, how are you doing?" Stiles mumbled.

Well shit.

"So, do you listen into all of my calls?" the Sheriff asked.

"No!" Stiles exclaimed. "Well, not the boring ones."

"And where's your usual partner in crime?" asked.

"Who? Scott? Scott's at home. He said he wanted to get a good sleep before practise tomorrow. It's just me. In the woods. Alone." Stiles informed him.

Well, it was partly the truth. Just not the 'at home' part.

"Scott, you out there?" the sheriff yelled. "Scott?"

There was a rumble in the sky and then the rain started to come back down.

The Sheriff sighed and turned back to Stiles.

"Well young man, I'm going to walk you back to your car. Then you and I are going to have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy."

Scott hit his head against the tree in frustration muttering to himself in annoyance.

"Hey, it's all good," I told him. "The walk back will be good for us."

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged.

We continued our walk through the woods, heading back to the edge of the preserve when we heard it. A wolf's howl. It was eerie and loud and kind of terrifying. Shaking my head, we kept going but the howling never stopped. We came to a little clearing and took a moment to let Scott use his inhaler when the ground started to rumble. Then, a huge heard of deer came from behind us. I dropped to the ground and curled in on myself but Scott was kicked over.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, when the deer were gone.

I'd stood up and gone to help Scott.

"Um, deer?" he told me.

"No shit," I muttered.

But he wasn't listening. He had turned on his phone and was using it to look for something.

"Help me find my inhaler," he whispered to me.

Pulling out my phone, I did the same thing. We brushed over leaves and dirt but came up with nothing. Behind me, Scott screamed. Turning around, I saw nothing. Not even my cousin. I walked over to where he'd been and saw it. It was the head and torso of a young girl.

"Oh my god," I whispered, taking a few steps back.

Wrong idea.

I slipped and fell back down a hill, landing onto Scott.

"Did you see it?" he asked frantically.

"Yeah," I breathed. "Yeah I did."

Scott opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a low growl behind us. We looked at each other and then slowly pivoted to try and figure out what had made that noise. Hunched between two trees was, what looked like, a wolf on steroids. It was a huge mass of fur and muscle with glowing red eyes and fangs coming out of its mouth. Then it pounced.

It should have been impossible for it to travel the distance that it did. Wolves aren't really known for their jumping abilities. But, somehow, it managed to land on Scott after one jump from fifteen feet away. One it landed, I rolled to the right and watched in terror as the thing pinned my cousin and bit him. Once it had finished with Scott, it turned to me. I closed my eyes and braced myself but nothing happened. It just ran away.

Shaking my head I walked over to Scott.

"Hey," said, hauling him up. "You okay."

"No," he cried. "The damn thing bit me."

Nodding I started pulling him out of the forest. We would look at it when we got home, but for now, we just needed to get out of the woods.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**** I KNOW, IT'S BEEN FOREVER AND I AM SORRY! School just started, so that's hectic, I'm trying to plan my NaNoWriMo, and I've also been working on a new fic, which you guys will learn more about later. Also I've been working on my own personal writing**

**In this chapter we will have a bit more Jackson/Esther and also some Lydia and Allison. Also, links to a lot of Esther's outfits are on my Polyvore page, which is linked in my bio.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, only Esther. Similar content and dialogue probably originated from the show**

**SEVEN**

That night, I dreamt.

I haven't had dreams like this since before the accident. They are strange and twisted, filled with yellow and red eyes, claws and teeth, giant creature chasing us through the woods and a girl in a party dress lying on a field with two men hunched over her. It all finishes with a crunch of metal and a scream.

I bolt up in bed. The screaming isn't a person; it's my alarm clock reminding me that it's my first day of school. I was told to get to the high school early so that I could be given the tour and shown where my locker was. Aunt Mel would be dropping me off on her way to work. Groaning I rolled out of bed and walked to my closet. I picked up a soft beige skirt and black top. I slipped black heeled boots onto my feet. I pinned my hair off my face and applied soft makeup to my eyes and lips. Spinning a couple times in front of the mirror, I decided I was fine with this look and went to meet Aunt Mel in the kitchen.

"Hey honey," she greeted me.

"Morning," I said, pulling out the toaster and bread.

"Your lunch is in the fridge and all of your introductory papers are on the counter," she told me.

"Thanks," I muttered, slathering jam on my toast.

Mel paused what she was doing and gave me the once over.

"Are you okay?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I'm worried about school starting and I had these really weird dreams last night."

"Alright," Melissa nodded. "What you need to do is relax. School will be fine. Scott and Stiles and Jackson will be there to help you out. And as for these dreams, they're just imaginary."

I sighed and she smiled.

"Now, let's go. I have work and you have and education to gain."

I grinned and scooped up my bag from the floor, stuffing the last few things I needed in it the followed Mel out to the car.

…

Honestly, this school isn't as ugly as I thought it would be. I'd seen pictures of public schools and they had been nasty. Beacon Hills High was nice though.

"Miss Leroux I presume," said a voice behind me.

I spun on the bench I was sitting on and saw a tall, black man in a suit standing behind. He had a kind face and was smiling a bit.

"Oh, um, yes," I told him, shaking his hand.

"Good. I am Mr. Roundings. I will be your principle," he said, leading me into the school.

"Now, we have your schedule and locker waiting, along with a map of the school. Your grade PE teacher has been informed of why you won't be taking his class and your French teacher is aware of why you are so advanced," he told me. "Also, your library volunteer block didn't work out so we just gave you a spare."

"That's fine," I muttered.

We walked up to the second floor of the school and down a hallway filled with lockers. We paused in front of one with the number 296 on the front. It was open and inside there was my schedule, map, books, and lock just as promised. The map had each classroom I would be in highlighted in bright yellow. I checked out my schedule and sighed. Nothing like Math first thing in the morning. At least my spare was at the end of the day.

"I guess that you'll be okay from here on out?" Mr. Roundings said.

I nodded and turned back to my locker. I figured I had time to kill so I may as well make the inside of my locker nice. I stacked my books and binders and pulled the pictures I'd brought with me out of my bag. The first one was of Scott and I when he had visited France a few years ago. I was on his back with my head thrown back laughing. He had that dopey grin spread across his face that made him look like a puppy. The second picture was Karen, Stella, and I on the first day last year. We were sitting backwards in chairs in the auditorium with our chins resting on the back of the seats. We had smiles on our faces and I remember how happy I was then. The last picture was a black and white photo of my mom and dad that was taken on their wedding day. Their foreheads were touching and moms hand was under dads chin as if she was forcing him to look at her. I knew she wasn't though.

He could never keep his eyes off of her.

I realised then that I was crying. I wiped away the tears and tried to keep the rest from falling. That didn't really work. My phone was ringing. I grabbed it from my locker and hit Answer.

"Um, hello?" I asked

"Hey," it was Jackson on the other end. "Are you at the school?"

"Yeah, I am," I told him, my voice cracking.

"Esther, are you okay?"

"No," I sniffed.

"Where are you?" he asked, sounding concerned. "I'll come find you."

"I'm at my locker. It's on the second floor in the north hallway," I replied, remembering what Roundings had told me.

"I'll be there in five," Jackson said before hanging up.

I shoved my phone back into my bag and waited, just staring at the picture of mom and dad. She really did look like me; same wavy dark hair, same brown eyes, same facial structure. The only difference was that my skin was a few shades paler because of dad's genetics.

"Esther," said a voice behind me.

I turned around and saw Jackson with a concerned look on his face. There was a lacrosse stick strapped across his back and it was then that I remembered tryouts were today. It was all Scott and Stiles had been talking about for weeks.

"Hi," I choked out.

"What's wrong?" he asked, bringing his hands to my face and wiping away my tears with his thumbs.

"Oh, just some old hurts coming back," I waved my hand, trying to dismiss the problem.

"Bullshit," Jackson told me calmly.

Raising an eyebrow at him, I turned back to my locker and grabbed my stuff for math.

"And how exactly would you know," I asked coolly.

"Because I know what you're doing," he told me, walking perfectly in stride with me.

"Yeah," I said, turning my head to him, "and what would that be?"

Jackson froze, looking straight ahead at the apparently very interesting band room door and slid down the wall, dropping his stuff next to him. I kept standing, hands on hips, staring down at him.

"You're trying to keep it all in. Pretend that it doesn't hurt you, that you don't really feel alone. That you aren't hurt every day by what's happened, even though you are," Jackson paused and collected his thoughts. "But if anyone ever figured it out, found out that you weren't one hundred percent okay, you would lie, tell them to back off. If that didn't work, you just put up more and more and more walls until you're someone completely untouchable."

I stood, shocked, in front of Jackson for about two minutes before sliding down the wall next to him.

"How do you know all that?" I whispered.

He looked at me with a small smile.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"


End file.
